


"Twenty Quid Says I'm Right."

by AFarFetchedPlot



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson and Donovan are basically fangirls, Bets are made, Established Adlock, F/M, Greg is subjected to things he'd rather not have seen, Implied Donovan/Anderson, Irene finds it all hilarious, Shenanigans at 221B, Sherlock is an embarrassed bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:05:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFarFetchedPlot/pseuds/AFarFetchedPlot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Anderson and Donovan do nothing for Sherlock's impression of Scotland Yard being filled with idiots, and spend their time betting on things they probably shouldn't...</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Twenty Quid Says I'm Right."

**Author's Note:**

> Based off another Anonymous Tumblr Prompt which I tweaked:
> 
> 'Prompt, please. I know you've been busy, but I had a marvellous idea. Anderson and Sally in front of 221b, betting on sherlock, whether he forgets or doesn't forget his scarf again. And then Irene brings it. And Anderson and Sally are like omg...
> 
> Edited it so that they're actually betting on who it is Sherlock's in a relationship with, but the rest of it is basically the same :)

“Look, I’m not saying they wouldn’t make an odd pair, but think about it.” Leaning against the hood of the squad car, Anderson nodded up at the window of 221B. “He’s always spending time with Sherlock and he’s  _always_  shown an unusual interest in him…“

“But Lestrade. And  _Freak_?” Sally spluttered, vehemently shaking her head. “No way. No _way_. Lestrade’d never go for him.”

“ _Think_  about it though!”

“I’d rather not, thanks; I’ve only just had lunch.”

“Stranger things have happened,“ Anderson continued, acting as though she hadn’t spoken. “Besides, if there  _isn’t_  anything going on between them, how come he’s been gone so bloody long? It’ll hardly be because Sherlock’s offered him a cup of tea or whatever; you know what he’s like.  _Especially_  when there’s a new case.” Nodding with an air of finality, Anderson folded his arms across his chest, expression smug. “It’ll be Lestrade, mark my words. It all makes sense.”

“You’re wrong, Phil. He sees Freak as more like a son than anything; anyone can see that. You honestly want to put your money on them being together?”

“It makes  _sense_.”

“It makes  _no_  sense. If Freak’s got himself involved with anybody, it’ll be that flatmate of his. I mean, why else would he choose to carry on hanging out with Freak?”

“Oh come on, that’s rubbish.”

“’ _It makes sense’_ ,” she insisted, adopting Anderson’s lazy drawl for a moment before flashing him a cheeky grin. “Come on, you must have seen the way he looks at Sherlock?  That Doctor Watson’s who my money’s on.”

“No, no, no, no,  _no_.”

“Twenty quid says I’m right.”

“You’re on.”

Any further discussion on the subject was cut short, however, by the sudden appearance of one of the subjects of their bet. Wide-eyed and pale, Lestrade looked distinctly more dishevelled than when he’d left, a fact which didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. Answering Anderson’s triumphant smirk and hissed “Told you!” with a roll of her eyes and a sharp dig in his ribs with her elbow, Donovan watched as their dazed-looking DI moved slowly towards the car.

“Sir? Everything alright?” Seeming to notice the two of them watching him for the first time, Greg blinked blankly a couple of times, before nodding. 

“I… Y-yeah. Everything’s fine…” A deep frown furrowing her forehead, Sally continued to gaze at the DI in concern as he all but staggered over. Her concern only grew as Lestrade, upon reaching the squad car, proceeded to fish in his pocket for a cigarette, leaning heavily against the bonnet as he lit it and took a long drag. 

“Thought you were quitting, sir?”

“Yeah, well, I needed this one,” Greg muttered darkly in reply, shaking his head slightly as he took another drag on the cigarette. “I do  _not_  get paid enough to deal with things like this…”

“Hello. Looks like trouble’s here,” said Anderson, frowning at the doorway of 221 where Sherlock had just appeared.

“Freak! What the hell did you do to Lestrade?” Donovan called angrily, rounding on the Consulting Detective as he stalked towards them. Raising an eyebrow, he regarded her with mild surprise and disdain, sounding distinctly bored as he replied. 

“I didn’t do  _anything_  to him. That would be counter-productive; he’s the only one who lets me on the interesting cases.”

“Then what the hell is wrong? Look at him! You must have done something!” Glancing at Lestrade, a brief flash of embarrassment darted across Sherlock’s face, before he once more schooled his expression, attempting to regain his composure. The faint pink blush creeping up his cheeks, however, belied his apparently calm exterior. 

“Oh. That.”

“ _Yes_ , that. What did you do?” Sally snapped at him, brown eyes flashing angrily as she folded her arms across her chest, waiting for an explanation.

“ _Nothing_. Not really… It’s his own fault anyway; he should have knocked.” That drew a short, sharp laugh from Greg as he raised his head to look incredulously at the other man. 

“ _My_  fault?!”

“Yes. You’re always haranguing me about not knocking on your door. Perhaps you should listen to your own advice, Lestrade.”

“You’d left the bloody door open!”

“Irrelevant. Besides, I was… Distracted.”

“I noticed,” the DI muttered with a shudder, rubbing the heel of his free hand into his eye, clearly hoping it would help erase what he’d seen. “Believe me, I noticed. Christ, I’m going to need bloody counselling after that…”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous-“

“ _I’m_  being ridiculous?!”

“ _Yes_.”

Wide-eyed and more than a little confused, Anderson glanced between the pair of them as they continued bickering, looking for all the world like he was refereeing a tennis match. Catching Sally’s gaze, he flashed her a ‘What the hell’s going on now?’ look which was answered with a half-shrug; she was just as confused as he was. Turning back to the arguing men, she opened her mouth to try and get some answers, or at least stop them squabbling, when she paused, distracted by a very visible mark on Sherlock’s neck. That in itself was a bit odd (it wasn’t often he forgot his scarf, not this time of year), but it was the  _mark_  which held Donovan’s attention. It could almost have been a bruise, except for the shape and colour; bright red and slightly smudged, it almost looked like…

“Lipstick!” She exclaimed, startling her companions who all regarded her strangely. 

“Donovan…?” Greg asked slowly, frowning, his brown eyes full of concern. “You feeling ok?” Rolling her eyes, exasperated, she moved forward and, ignoring Sherlock’s shout of annoyance, yanked the collar of his coat down to expose more of his neck. 

“He’s got lipstick on his neck,” she repeated, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the forensics officer and a muttered  _“Oh God…”_  from Lestrade. 

“How on Earth did you get that?” Anderson asked, looking bewildered as he gazed incredulously at the detective.

“Someone put it there,” Sherlock muttered, jerking away from Sally and pulling his coat closer to his neck with a scowl, the effect spoilt somewhat by the blush once more creeping across his cheeks. 

“Yes, but… Why?” 

“No doubt they found it amusing.” 

“Come on, are you  _honestly_  trying to tell us you’ve got some woman in your flat who decided to put  _that_  on your neck?”

“Always fascinating to hear your input on things, Anderson,” Sherlock muttered, irritated, as he rubbed ineffectually at the incriminating mark. “How  _else_  would it have gotten there? Or do you think I amuse myself of an evening placing random smudges of cosmetics on my body? What would be the point of that?”

“But a woman?”

“Yes.”

“In your flat?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Who did-“

“Clearly.”

“But-“

“Lestrade.” Sherlock said curtly, cutting Anderson’s question short as he turned his back on the man, ignoring him completely. “Kindly tell your forensic  _monkey_  to stop asking inane questions; this is not going to get the case solved.”

“Now, hang on-!” 

“Friend of yours, Freak?” Donovan interrupted, nodding back at the building where a woman had materialised. Spinning on his heel and all but glaring at the stranger, he shook his head emphatically. 

“ _Friend_? No.” Without another word of explanation, he stalked over to the woman, coat billowing dramatically behind him. They watched on as he struck up what appeared a heated conversation with her, annoyance evident in his every gesture. His frustration, however, was simply met with amusement from his dark-haired companion, her scarlet painted lips (the same shade as the mark on his neck, Donovan noted), stretching into an almost mocking half-smile as she murmured her reply. 

“Who do you suppose she is?” Philip asked quietly, his gaze inexorably drawn to Sherlock’s companion who, though petite and elegant, nevertheless exuded an inner strength and sensuality which made her hard not to notice. “Sister?”

“I doubt it,” Sally snorted. “Lipstick on the neck, remember? When was the last time you kissed your sister on her neck?” 

“Yeah, alright…”

“Not his sister,” rasped a voice from behind them. Glancing at the DI, he shook his head emphatically, expression grim as he stubbed out his cigarette with slightly more force than was necessary.

“Sir…?” Greg seemed reluctant to elaborate any further, however, simply adding a muttered, “Not his sister. Trust me.” 

“Well, how did he even find someone like…that? She’s gorgeous…” Anderson wondered aloud, earning himself another sharp dig in the ribs and a disgruntled glare from Sally. “ _Ouch_.”

“Probably kidnapped her,” she muttered, folding her arms across her chest once more. “You know what Freak’s like…”

Sherlock’s conversation seeming to be at an end, they watched curiously as the mystery woman handed over his scarf, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek with a sly smile before she turned and walked away, raising a hand in farewell to Greg. The DI weakly returned the gesture, before burying his face in his hands again, groaning softly, a reaction which seemed to amuse the woman; laughing lightly, she carried on, her high heels tapping out a dull staccato on the pavement before she turned a corner and was gone. Sherlock stared after her for a moment, before seeming to pull himself back together, all cool efficiency once more as he slid his scarf into place and made his way back over to them.

“Well? What are we waiting for? Lestrade, you said the case was urgent.”

“Yeah, alright…” Greg replied, sighing heavily as he got to his feet once more. “Anderson, Donovan; time to go.”

“But, wait!” Glancing between Lestrade and Sherlock, Anderson gestured in the direction the woman had disappeared. “Who  _was_  she?” Pausing, the consulting detective considered him carefully for a moment, before breaking into a distinctly predatory grin. 

“ _She_ is The Woman. And she is none of your concern, Anderson.”

“But-“

“Hurry up, Lestrade.” Sherlock interrupted, ignoring Philip once more. “It’s no wonder crime rates are on the rise when Scotland Yard are so concerned about mindless  _gossip_  and needless information.”

With that, he was gone in a melodramatic flourish of his coat, leaving a resigned Greg and his unimpressed colleagues behind as he quickly flagged down a waiting taxi and sped off.

“That… That doesn’t really answer my question…” Anderson muttered moodily, causing Lestrade to groan again.

“Christ’s sake; it doesn’t bloody  _matter_ , Anderson. Just get in the sodding car, would you? We’ve got a ruddy crime scene to look at.” 

“Hey,” Anderson whispered to Donovan as they followed slightly behind their irate boss to the waiting patrol car. “Bet Sherlock or that woman of his gets bored within a fortnight .”

“A fortnight? I reckon they’ll last at least a month.”

“Twenty quid says I’m right.”

“You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in sending a prompt, or would like more Adlock stuff of various shapes and sizes (not that I'm obsessed.. No, no... xD), you can find me on Tumblr at allthingsadlock.tumblr.com ^-^


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